The Power They Wield
by lazupri
Summary: Based on the premise for Probable Cause, but no direct spoilers for the episode whatsoever. Completely different story. When evidence suggests Castle has a relationship with a murder victim at the time of her demise, Rick and Kate have to address their respective insecurities while working to clear his name and solve a grisly murder. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine. (Though if Nathan were to offer to be so, I wouldn't say no.)**

**Summary: Based on the premise for Probable Cause, but no direct spoilers for the episode whatsoever. Completely different story. When evidence suggests Castle has a relationship with a murder victim at the time of her demise, Rick and Kate have to address their respective insecurities while working to clear his name and solve a grisly murder.**

**Notes: This story is complete in 5 to 7 chapters, but I'm still trying to figure out breaks, so I'm not sure how many it will be, precisely. I'll just post one a day until I run out. Also, this is not an angst-fest. There are moments of tension but they're fairly fleeting, so feel free to relax and enjoy the ride!**

* * *

**The Power They Wield**

"Good morning, team!" Castle greeted the various members of the NYPD who were poking around the death scene of their latest homicide victim. A couple of nods and one lone glance were the only responses he received as he navigated the room. Funny the effect murder tended to have on good humor.

_Unless_, Castle thought giddily, _the love of your life happens to be there, waiting for you with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen_.

Yeah. His euphoric mood wasn't going anywhere.

A massive bouquet of roses sat in the center of an oblong dining table, and Rick leaned in as he passed by, inhaling the fragrance. Wait. Blissfully happy was one thing, but when had he become such a cliché?

Though, he hadn't actually _stopped_ to smell them, had he?

Just… slowed down a bit.

"Morning, Castle," Kate said warmly, dropping her voice when he reached her side. "Missed you."

"Likewise," Rick murmured, his eyes fixed on hers.

They'd spent the previous evening apart. Kate had gone to dinner with her father and Castle had ensconced himself in his office at the Old Haunt, wanting a change of scenery as he typed out the gory details of a new murder for Det. Heat and Co.

"Who's the unlucky gent or lady?" he asked as they made their way over to the sheet-covered body.

Beckett shrugged. "Don't know yet. I just got here myself."

"Well then clearly I'm talking to the wrong person," Castle said cheekily. "Lanie, you're looking lovely this morning!"

"Thanks, Castle," the M.E. responded evenly, raising her brow at the death glare Kate was sending the writer's way. "You're welcome to attend the autopsy if you feel you can't tear your eyes away."

"Mm. Pass. No woman looks _that_ good."

"Really? Not a single one? In that case," she said, turning to Beckett, "if you need a break from him today, come on down to the morgue. We'll trash men and discuss nearly-undetectable murder methods."

"I might take you up on that," Kate bit out, hiding a smile as Castle blanched.

"So…" he quickly interjected, before things took an uglier turn, "COD?"

"You squeamish?" Lanie asked, pulling down the sheet.

"Whoa!" Castle jerked back slightly. "Where's her face?"

"Somewhere in the vicinity of the back of her skull, by the looks of it," Kate commented. "Wow."

Castle glanced away, feeling a bit unsteady. "That wasn't a fist. Murder weapon?"

"My money's on Nefertiti."

"Ah. Of course. The specter of a deceased Egyptian queen is summoned forth by—"

"Can it, Castle," Lanie interrupted, and Beckett stifled an unladylike snort. "There's a marble bust in the kitchen sink. I doubt that's her usual hangout."

"Thanks Lanie. We'll catch you later. C'mon Castle, I know you want to check out that bust."

Rick leered and muttered something in her ear that made Beckett glower at him. Lanie just shook her head. Kate deserved whatever reply she got after setting him up like that. Why she encouraged him, the doctor didn't know. Well… yeah, actually, she did.

And the thought made her smile.

/. . . . /

"All right, boys, what've we got?" Beckett asked as she and Castle strode into the bullpen an hour later.

They hadn't learned much at the scene beyond the fact that Nefertiti had been given a thorough scrubbing, ostensibly to rid her of prints, and that the owner of the apartment was a Richard Castle fan. She had all the Storm books, and two of the Heats. He hadn't gloated, exactly, but Rick also couldn't quite hide the burst of pleasure he always felt when he encountered a shelf of his work in someone's home.

Ryan looked up and smiled. "Good morning to you, too. Apartment belongs to a Whitney Brohm. We won't know it's her for sure until Lanie gets back to us. But hers is the only name on the lease, so… seems the likely candidate."

"Whitney Brohm," Castle mused. "That name sounds familiar. Is she known?"

Esposito shrugged. "Never heard of her."

"It'll be a while before Lanie can confirm identity," Kate calculated, looking at her watch. "Is there anything we can go off of until then?"

"CSU is still on scene," said Ryan. In other words, no.

"Well, let's pull up the info on Ms. Brohm. Even if the body's not hers, the murder scene is."

"On it."

Esposito hunkered over his keyboard as Castle and Beckett headed for the break room.

"Have a productive evening with Detective Heat, Mr. Castle?" Kate asked as they doctored their coffees.

Rick smiled. "Semi-productive. I kept getting distracted by scenes of a different sort played out with a different detective."

Kate tsked at him. "You're not cheating on Nikki with Slaughter, are you, Castle?"

Rick froze. "Well, that just ruined the moment," he groused. "Couldn't you have said something like…."

Castle trailed off as Ryan walked into the room. "Something like what?"

"Um."

Kevin waited for a second, but when Castle didn't elaborate, he nodded in understanding. "Well, Beckett's usually a little more articulate than that, Castle. But I can see how you'd want to limit her to single-syllable responses from time to time."

Kate and Rick gaped as Ryan grabbed his coffee and headed back out. "I think Espo's got some info on our gal when you guys are ready," he smirked. It was going to be so fun playing with them.

"He knows. Lerner blabbed," Castle hissed.

Kate was still trying to pick her jaw up off the floor. "We don't know that. He's probably just messing with you."

Her words were confident but her voice was unsteady. She was inclined to agree with Castle.

Ryan knew.

"So, here she is when she still had a face." Beckett and Castle crossed the bullpen and moved around to see the screen Javi and Kevin were staring at. "Assuming this is, in fact, our vic."

"Pretty lady," said Beckett. Dark brown hair, dark eyes, wide, confident smile. In her early 30's, she looked like a youthful girl next door.

Because he was standing behind everyone else, no one noticed the color drain from Castle's face.

"Looks like she worked for a brokerage firm for the last eight years. No run-ins with the law, not even a traffic ticket. Squeaky clean," observed Esposito.

"Yeah, well, she got on someone's bad side," countered Beckett. "Family?"

"Parents in Florida. Otherwise, nada."

Beckett thought for a minute then turned to Castle. "That flower arrangement on her table, that looked fresh, didn't it? Boyfriend?"

"Roses. I stopped and smelled them," Castle supplied dazedly, and off Beckett's amused look added, "What? You didn't?"

"Ryan, call… who's there? Turner? See if he can find a card. Maybe the florist will have a record on them."

A few minutes later, Ryan was handing them a slip of paper. "Got it. Card from a place called 'Flowers by Knight.' Cute."

"Okay, Castle, let's… Castle?"

Rick was sitting on the corner of Javier's desk, staring at the floor.

"Castle?" she tried again.

"Huh?"

"You okay? You look… not okay."

"No, I'm fine. I'm good. What's… what're we doing?" he managed, taking a large swig of coffee.

"I'm going to talk to this florist. You want to stay here, or…?"

"No. No, I'll come. I'm coming."

She nodded. " 'kay. Address, Ryan?"

"It's on West 20th." Kate's head swung back around to her partner. "I've… used them before."

Beckett tried to catch Castle's eye as they walked to her cruiser. Something was wrong. She wondered if he was worried about Ryan outing their relationship. Of course, if Rick didn't stop walking around with that deer in headlights look, Ryan wouldn't _have_ to say anything.

Kate tried to reassure Castle on that front, but he was uncharacteristically quiet. Finally she gave up and they rode the rest of the way to the flower shop without another word uttered between them.

/. . . . /

"Well, that was helpful," griped Kate on the way back to the precinct.

The owner of the shop wasn't expected back until tomorrow, which was unfortunate because it was apparently he who had handled the order for the roses. The computer records indicated they had been paid for in cash three days prior, but they would have to talk to Mr. Knight if they wanted more information.

"They said he'll be there in the morning," Rick said, quietly reassuring her.

"Do you know him?"

Castle nodded, but didn't say anything further.

"Okay, seriously, Castle?" Kate couldn't help prodding him after another long silence. "Something's wrong. What is it? If it's not Ryan… is it the case?"

Suddenly she remembered that Castle had half-recognized the woman's name. "Is it the vic? Whitney? Did her picture… do you know her?"

Rick was looking out the window. "I might. I… can we wait until we hear from Lanie? We're not even sure it's her yet."

"Okay. But Castle, if you know her…."

"It's okay, Beckett. I'm good." He nodded hard, and she got the feeling he was trying to convince _himself_ of that statement more than her.

/. . . . /

"Any luck?" Ryan asked as they came off the elevator.

"Not really, no. We'll have to talk to the owner tomorrow. You?"

"CSU's back. We've got a couple of things to go on."

Beckett headed to the murder board the boys had set up in their absence. "Then let's get to it."

"We can start with this," Ryan said, handing her an evidence bag. "Card from the florist. They're from someone named Rick. Want to just confess, Castle? Save us from having to run it for prints?"

Ryan grinned and moved to write on the board, but Kate was staring at the card. Her hand was shaking. Slowly, she raised her eyes and found Castle's. Her mouth worked but nothing came out. He came to stand beside her, afraid of what he would find.

The fear proved well founded. The card was indeed in his handwriting.

_Thank you for an enchanting evening. Until we meet again…_

He had signed it, first name only, in his usual scrawl.

Castle swallowed hard. His palms were sweating, everything was spinning. "Kate," he whispered.

Her eyes were locked with his and she knew she needed to say something, but… she had nothing.

"So," Ryan began, turning toward them, but the looks on their faces had him changing tacks. "Everything okay?"

Beckett finally snapped out of her stupor. She grabbed Rick's sleeve and headed for the nearest interrogation room. "Be right back."

When the door closed behind them, she whirled to face Castle, the bag held up between them. "Explain."

"Beckett… Kate," Rick started, but seemed unsure of where to go from there.

She let out an exasperated puff of air and plowed on ahead of him.

"You _might_ know her? You spend an 'enchanting evening' with her, send her roses and you just _might_ know her? Castle, I… what… what the hell?" she finished ineloquently, flipping the card at his chest.

"Kate, it's not what it looks like."

"Really? That's the line you pull out? When exactly was this 'enchanting evening,' Castle?"

Before he could answer, a knock sounded on the door and Javier stepped halfway into the room. "Heard from Lanie. Positive ID on our vic. I accessed her social network accounts. There's something you should see."

He hesitated, then backed out, shutting the door as he went.

"Something you want to tell me about?" She made to storm out of the room without waiting for a reply, but Castle blocked her exit with a firm arm against the door.

"Just a damn minute," he said in a low voice. Shock had finally started to ebb away, and frustration was taking its place.

"I know how this looks, but if you'll give me half a second, I'll explain."

Beckett crossed her arms, gritted her teeth and raised an eyebrow, armor firmly in place.

"Yes, I knew her. Yes, we went out. Yes, I sent her flowers."

"And you're only just now remembering this?" Kate interrupted.

"Yes," he ground out, matching her aggressive tone. "Because I didn't send _those_ flowers. That evening we spent together was years ago, Kate. I don't even remember how many. Five, seven? I don't know."

"So why didn't you just admit to knowing her?"she asked after a moment's consideration.

"Because."

Beckett tilted her head and gave him a look that clearly said, _Do better_.

"Because," he said firmly, but with eyes askance, "I wasn't sure. I thought I recognized her name, was pretty sure I recognized her face. I wasn't absolutely certain, though, until…." He finished by waving the card in the air.

"And? You couldn't just tell us that you thought you knew her but weren't sure?"

"Right. Because it's so easy to admit to your current…" he broke off, glancing at the two-way mirror before continuing, "your current _partner_ that you barely recognize a woman you once slept with because you hardly knew her."

Kate chewed on her lip. Okay, so he was embarrassed. Maybe even a little ashamed. Well, why shouldn't he be? If all the women he'd been with were such a blur—and just how many were there, exactly?—then….

Castle cleared his throat, interrupting her train of thought.

"I can't explain why this card was with those flowers, Beckett. But I didn't send them," he reiterated.

Beckett took the bag back and motioned for him to move his arm. "We need to get out there."

"Kate."

"I believe you, Castle, okay?" She eventually met his eye, nodded to him. "We'll talk more later."

He slowly dropped his arm and followed her back into the bullpen, sending a silent plea to the universe for things not to get any worse.

It didn't exactly comply with his wishes.

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A/N: Chapter two will be up tomorrow! Hope you're enjoying it so far!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

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Ryan and Esposito warily eyed the other two members of their team as they emerged from the interrogation room. There was a palpable tension between them, and after having looked at Whitney's recent tweets, the boys had a pretty good guess as to why.

"Yo, Castle. You know that our vic was following you on twitter?"

"I have a lot of followers, Esposito. I don't keep track of all of them," Rick answered uneasily.

"Do you keep track of the ones you respond to?"

Castle startled at Javi's accusatory tone and glanced at Kate who was stone-faced and tight-lipped. Fantastic.

"I randomly answer tweets now and then. What was her handle?"

"Castlechick47?" Beckett muttered sarcastically.

Rick shot her a wounded glance.

"Close," said Ryan. "Castleluvr4lyf."

Beckett turned her head to glare at the wall, and Castle flinched.

"I don't recognize it. What did she say to me?"

"Quite a few things, little comments here and there. There's only one you responded to. Sent… three days ago."

"Same day as the flowers," Beckett observed.

"Let's see. She said, 'Last night was awe-inspiring. Deepest thanks.' You replied, 'Your pleasure is my pleasure.'" Javier looked at him expectantly.

Kate was looking at the ceiling now, Ryan at the floor. All surfaces present and accounted for? Check.

"I assumed she was referring to an evening spent reading one of my books. I make cheesy replies to messages like that all the time. Part of the image. You can check my twitter account if you need to. I didn't know it was her."

The last part was aimed at Kate, though he was looking at Espo's computer as he said it.

"Did she retweet my reply?"

"As a matter of fact, she did. But she only had a handful of followers, so it didn't go far. And no, Castle isn't one of them," Esposito clarified at Beckett's troubled look.

"Okay, let's check out her followers, go through her mail. Maybe we'll find something more to go on there."

Beckett walked toward her desk but stopped as Rick moved to follow.

"Castle, you'll have to go home."

Rick stumbled to a halt. "What? Why?"

"You're a… person of interest in this investigation."

"Oh, come on, Beckett!" he exclaimed. "You know I had nothing to do with this!"

"I know." She looked at Castle closely and took a step toward him, moving well into his personal space. "I _know_, Castle."

She reached out and snagged the cuff of his sleeve with her fingers. "It's okay. _We're_ okay. I'll come by a little later to update you and… we'll talk."

She slid her hand into his in a very surreptitious handshake.

Castle searched her face, took reassurance from her earnest gaze and quietly left the bullpen.

Kate sat down at her desk, refusing to acknowledge the questioning looks Javi and Kevin kept sending her way. There was a lot of ground to cover, and the sooner she did it, the sooner she could clear Castle and get him back here with her. Where he belonged.

/ . . . . /

A weary Kate Beckett leaned against the wall outside her partner's loft several hours later. It was still early by her standards during an active investigation—not even five o'clock—but it felt like she'd been working 24 hours straight. She really should be out running that last lead with Ryan and Espo, but she had promised to keep Castle in the loop and, quite frankly, she wanted to see him.

She imagined the afternoon had been worse for him than her, being stuck here, not knowing what was going on, fretting about her reaction to his relationship with Ms. Brohm. And she had reacted, hadn't she? Why couldn't she get that under control?

_Because,_ she answered herself, _you're afraid. It's not jealousy of his ex-women that eats at you. It's fear that you'll end up being one of them. _

Kate jerked away from the wall and knocked on Castle's door to distract herself from that line of thought. It held all sorts of implications about her hopes for the future and she wasn't ready to have that conversation with herself just yet.

Rick opened the door with a smile that was welcoming enough but that didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked… apprehensive? Haunted?

God, she hoped they got through this in one piece.

"Hey."

"Hi. Come on in."

Kate stepped into the loft, stopping beside him, catching his hand. "I missed you," she admitted, then ducked her head to hide a blush as she realized this was the second time in about 12 hours that she'd told him that. Apparently she wasn't satisfied unless they were joined at the hip. _Hip, Beckett, _she thought as she flushed for a different reason. _Singular. Not hips. Don't go there right now. _

Castle moved forward to kiss the crown of her head, breathed in her scent, then led her by the hand into the kitchen.

"Coffee?"

"Please," she begged with a grin.

He set about grinding some beans a neighbor had insisted he try, prepping the coffee machine while she told him about the developments in the case. She'd filled the boys in on the florist card and flowers and they'd made progress identifying and contacting people in Whitney's address book. One looked very promising as a boyfriend. Ryan and Espo were hunting him down.

With the coffee beginning to brew, Castle came to stand across the counter from where Beckett sat, her feet twined with the legs of the barstool.

"So… earlier…" Rick prompted, then waited for Kate to pick up the thread.

"Earlier?" she hedged. Oh, god, maybe she wasn't ready for this conversation after all.

"You said we'd talk. What did you want to talk about?"

Beckett briefly closed her eyes. "Actually, I need to apologize first, for kind of flying off the handle. I didn't even give you the benefit of the doubt. I should have let you explain before I started jumping to conclusions."

"You don't need to apologize, Beckett. I think I understand why you jumped," he said, then issued a heavy sigh before forging ahead.

"But even sort of understanding… it still hurts, Kate. I've told you how I feel. I've tried to show you, every day, every way I know how. Yet you seem to have astonishingly little confidence in my commitment to this relationship. To you."

He watched her worrying her lower lip, rubbing nervous circles on the countertop with her fingertips.

"There have been a lot of women," she finally offered weakly. "Like, a lot-a lot."

He sighed and backed up again until he leaned against the far counter. He'd been wondering—dreading, really—when this would come up, but now that it had, he was almost relieved. Almost.

"My lifestyle," he began with a wry smile, "the extravagance, the ladies… it was fun for a time. I admit I enjoyed the attention, even if it was superficial. I wasn't exactly _proud_ of that, but I was never particularly embarrassed by it, either. Until I met you."

She raised an eyebrow, eyed him skeptically.

"I know, it sounds like a line," he acknowledged, "but it's the truth."

Her expression didn't change and Castle grinned sheepishly. "Well, okay, maybe not so much at the very beginning. Then, I was mostly focused on trying to charm you. I wanted to, so desperately, but I didn't know how.

"You know, the evening I met you, I had been telling Alexis I wanted something different. And man, did I get it," he reflected, "but hell if I knew what to do with it."

Kate smiled softly. _Oh, you charmed me, Richard Castle,_ she thought. _But how could I have handed you that kind of ammunition back then?_

"Anyway," he continued, "when I moved past the point of just wanting to… charm you, on to actually caring about you, it mattered more and more what you thought of me. I respected you so much. And when I looked at myself through your eyes, I didn't see how that sentiment could possibly be returned. It was a humbling revelation."

Castle fell into a contemplative silence. He'd never viewed himself as a womanizer. Yes, he'd had more casual flings with women than he really cared to recall. But he'd used them only as they'd used him. He had never walked away from a woman feeling like he'd benefitted more than she had from the liaison. And he didn't leave a bevy of broken hearts in his wake. That knowledge somehow made his rakish behavior seem, if not innocent, innocuous enough.

It took knowing Kate to see the error in that way of thinking. Regardless of benefit, he had indeed used an alarming number of women, not just for sex, but as a buffer against "real," as Beckett would put it.

He'd deliberately sought meaningless relationships as a means to companionship without the emotional risk. He had encouraged the women who latched on to his wallet or his celebrity, then justified his carelessness toward them by citing their own artful conduct toward him. It was a vicious cycle he perpetuated, unhealthy and immature. But it had served its purpose. It had kept his heart intact.

Knowing Kate, loving her had given him the fortitude to break free of it. The influence she had over him, the power she unknowingly wielded, was both liberating and terrifying.

"I haven't been in that many relationships, Kate," Castle confided, calling her attention away from her own thoughts. "Most of the women—I guess you could call them dalliances. That's what I wanted, what I needed at the time."

Rick shook his head, bemused. "Then I met you and everything shifted. I was suddenly involved in a relationship that had all the emotional depth I'd been trying to avoid, and I wasn't even dating the woman who was pulling me in. You really did a number on me, Beckett."

The coffee had finished brewing as he spoke, so Castle took a minute to fix them each a cup. He brought Kate hers then leaned on the counter beside her so they both faced into the kitchen.

"So, yeah. Embarrassing. There I was, acting the rich playboy, all the while hating the impression I was surely making on you. Because all I really wanted to do was show you that I could be so much more than that. That I _wanted_ to be more. For you.

"For myself, too," he conceded after a pause, "but mostly for you. It just took me a little while to figure out how. I still have some work to do, obviously."

Rick turned to face her and reached for her hands, enclosing them in his, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs.

"I realize it's not enough just to love you. I need to be the kind of man you deserve, and the man I was when we first met… wasn't even close. I know that. But Kate—"

The trill of Beckett's cell phone cut him off, and he pressed his lips together hard to keep from groaning out loud. Were these moments between them never to be free from interruption?

She was staring at him, eyes suspiciously bright, and for a second he wasn't sure she realized that her phone was ringing. But then she was reaching for it, sighing at the display, answering with a shaky, "Hey Ryan, what've you got?"

Beckett listened for a minute, agreed with something he said. Rick, easily interpreting her eye roll, found a travel mug and transferred her coffee over, topping it off and snapping the lid on as Kate disconnected the call.

"They found the boyfriend. Works second shift at a warehouse all the way over on 112th. And it's 5:30," she bemoaned. "I don't suppose you have a helicopter at your command?"

"Sorry, Detective. But I'll look into getting one if it's important to you."

"Not necessary. I've already got what's important to me right here." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed into him, nuzzling his neck, sighing when he pulled her more tightly against his chest.

"I don't want to go," she confessed.

"But you won't let me come with?"

"You're still not in the clear, Castle. I have to follow protocol on this."

"Is this within protocol?" Rick asked before surging forward to capture her mouth with his.

"No," Kate gasped as they broke apart a minute later, "but I'm thinking it probably should be."

"We'll lobby for a clause in the next Procedures Manual."

She laughed and bumped his cheek with her nose. "Might have to pay a couple people off."

"Blank check," Castle replied without hesitation.

"You do realize you don't need anyone's approval but mine, yeah?"

"And I still have that?"

Kate slid her hands into his hair and brought his head down until his lips were within a breath of her own. "Always," she whispered.

Rick groaned as he took her mouth again in a gentle, lingering kiss.

"You have to go," he mourned when she finally pulled back, "and we didn't finish our conversation."

"We will," Beckett promised.

"Are you coming back tonight?"

"Sure. Want me to bring dinner?"

"That's okay, I can whip something up," Castle offered, grabbing Kate's coffee and walking her to the door.

"Thanks," she replied as he handed her the mug. She stepped into him, her free hand sliding to the nape of his neck. "And… thanks."

They stared at one other, understanding swirling between them, before breaking into mirroring grins. "Is this the part where I say, 'You'd have done the same for me,'?"

"It is," Kate confirmed. "To which I reply, 'Most definitely.'"

"That's not your line," Rick admonished.

"Yeah, Castle. It is."

* * *

A/N: Chapter 3 tomorrow!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Same as before.**

**Notes: Sorry, sorry! I meant to post this morning before I left but I hit the snooze button one (or six, but who's counting) too many times and barely made it out the door only ten minutes late as it was. Mornings. /grumble  
**

* * *

"How is he?"

Beckett looked at Ryan, weighing her answer. After all, she hadn't really talked to Rick about his reaction to the case. Kate wasn't sure how he was on that point.

"We didn't have much of a chance to talk. But I think he's holding up."

"He knows we've got his back, right?" Esposito chimed in. "If Castle murdered someone, COD on Lanie's report would be tons more original than 'bashed-in face.'"

"I'm sure Castle would be grateful for your staunch defense of his creativity, Espo."

"Damn right he would."

"So our guy is Dustin, uh, Dalrymple?" Ryan broke in. "38 years old. He's worked at this warehouse for six years. No black marks. Married to a Heidi Martin—she kept her name—for five years. At least one potential black mark there. Couple of disturbing the peace violations. Otherwise clean."

"Let's go have a chat."

"Mr. Dalrymple," Beckett greeted their quarry, badge at the ready. He was muscular man, tall, clean-shaven with a somewhat ruddy complexion and a stylish haircut. His clothes were casual, but high-end. Not what you usually found on a warehouse worker.

"Detectives Beckett, Ryan and Esposito. NYPD. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Yeah? 'Bout what?" he gruffed with a thick Brooklyn accent.

"Does the name Whitney Brohm ring a bell?"

"Yeah, I know 'er. What's this about?" His eyes narrowed. "My wife sic you guys on me?"

"We're homicide detectives, Mr. Dalrymple," Ryan corrected him, "not private investigators."

"Homicide? As in murder?"

The detectives shared a look that was half amusement, half derision.

"Tell us about your relationship with Ms. Brohm, Mr. Dalrymple," Beckett requested.

"She's my buddy. My wife ain't got nothin' for me in the sack, so I call Whitney."

"Been calling her a lot lately?" inquired Esposito.

"Might say that."

Ryan tagged in. "Call her last night?"

"Yeah. We went a couple rounds before work."

"What time was that, Mr. Dal… sorry, man, can we call you Dustin?"

Dalrymple shrugged. "It's Dusty. And it was 'bout nine o'clock."

"You work second shift, Dusty," Ryan said. "You play hooky last night?"

"Naw. Traded shifts with Big Tommy. Worked graveyard."

"So you were here between two and four a.m.?" Beckett asked.

"That's what the time card says."

"What do _you_ say?" she pushed.

"Yeah, I was here. Cam says it, too." Dusty smiled smugly, indicating the warehouse surveillance system.

"One more question," said Esposito. "Can you think of anyone who might've had it in for Whitney?"

"Besides my wife?"

/. . . . /

Kate slouched toward the refrigerator as soon as she got back to Castle's. He'd texted her an hour before and told her to use her key, that dinner was in the fridge and that he would be in the bed. It was only eight, but he'd been up writing all night the night before. After the shock and emotional upheaval of the day, he had to have been beat.

She ate a cold dinner of lemon chicken and farfalle, performed her nightly ablutions and crawled into bed. Castle stirred, though she'd been trying not to wake him.

"Confess?"

"No. Plus, alibi."

"Sorry, babe," he mumbled before drifting away again.

Beckett smiled. He'd called her that twice before, but only, as now, when he was but a whisper away from a dream. She kissed his shoulder and rested her head against his arm.

It had been a long day and Castle still had the specter of probable cause hanging over him; even so, Beckett felt lighter now than she had this morning, thanks in no small part to the things he had told her earlier.

She'd known, of course, that he'd been trying to better himself, to be more, just as she'd been doing for him. She wasn't blind to the effort and progress he had made. Yes, there was the welcome decrease in arm candy, but it was more than that. It was the shift in his manner toward her over the years. The flirtation and innuendo—for which Beckett secretly lived—had been ever-present, but there was also an increasing depth to their interactions that she'd perhaps misinterpreted a little.

Before, Kate had merely assumed the change occurred naturally as their relationship evolved. And while it was true that it did, she'd missed the deeper implication: All that time, he had been learning how to commit to her on an emotional level.

Beckett wasn't going to lie to herself. The multitude of women Castle had been with over the years—it bothered her. For the obvious reason, yes, but mostly because she feared what it might say about his ability to sustain a relationship. When listening to his admission this afternoon, though, Kate had realized that his past behavior indicated only a lack of desire to commit, not an inability to do so.

By standing with her for four years, by using that time to build a strong emotional bond, he'd proven ability and desire both were very much in play where she was concerned. He could do this. He _was_ doing this.

Kate's thoughts floated back to a frigid evening they'd spent together, locked in a freezer, a lifetime ago. He'd apologized to her then. For being himself. For being impetuous and brash. And it was indeed that facet of Castle's personality which was at the heart of her concerns.

Beckett's greatest fear had been that Rick let himself be consumed by what he felt for her to the degree that he had eschewed rational thought; that, caught up in a whirlwind of passion and need and love, he had rushed right in without considering the work a long-term relationship with her would entail.

But today, right there in his kitchen, Castle had slugged that dragon full in the face by acknowledging that love alone wasn't enough. It was his understanding of that fact that had nearly brought her to tears, because it meant he wasn't just feeding off of an emotional impulse. He was thinking this through. And he was still in.

Castle was in.

Her last waking thought before exhaustion overtook her was to marvel once again at their symmetry—their respective fears of emotional intimacy and their individual attempts to overcome them, each for the other.

And she wondered why _he_ was afraid.

/ . . . . /

She awoke in the wee hours to Castle nibbling his way from her shoulder to her neck. They had spooned at some point, the heat from his body warming her bare back.

"If you're hungry, Castle, I can make you some eggs or something," she murmured sleepily, giggling as he hit a ticklish spot.

"That doesn't sound nearly as appetizing as what I've got right here," he purred, trapping her earlobe between his teeth and stroking it with his tongue.

Kate gasped as arousal ignited in her belly.

"You forgot your nightshirt."

"Didn't forget. Didn't want it. Like being naked in your bed."

He growled against her ear, his voice as soft and deep and needful as she could ever remember hearing it, sending shockwaves through her body. "And why is that, Beckett?"

His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her firmly into him as he slid his knee between her thighs.

Her response lodged in her throat when he slowly rocked into her from behind.

"Kate." His mouth still at her ear, demanding an answer.

"So you can have me if you want me," she whispered.

"I want you."

/ . . . . /

The sun rose that morning behind a thick blanket of clouds. Rick didn't wake in the dim light as Kate planted a hard kiss on a post-it and lightly pressed it onto his chest over his heart.

She left him a note on the counter advising him to come to the precinct and submit a statement sooner rather than later. Might as well get it over with.

So eight o'clock saw Castle strolling into the relatively empty bullpen with two coffees and half a bear claw in hand.

"Just half, Castle?" complained Beckett.

"Sorry, gorgeous. Got hungry. Someone left this morning without making me breakfast. I was expecting eggs."

Kate snatched her half-eaten pastry out of his hand. "In that case, I'm guess I'm lucky to even have half, glutton that you are," she muttered, taking a bite to hide her smile.

"Did you crawl over me to get out of bed this morning, Beckett?" he asked in a low voice. "Not that I'm complaining if you did."

She stared at him, confusion written on her features until she grasped his meaning. Beckett pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.

"I'm nervous, Castle," she said around another mouthful.

"About me giving a statement."

She nodded.

"It'll be fine, Beckett. I didn't do anything. I have nothing to hide. Well, besides, you know…. "

"You have no alibi."

"I have no motive."

"You have to give your statement to Gates."

Castle choked on his coffee. "Should we go over my testimony now, or….?"

"God, Castle, this isn't funny," Kate reprimanded him. "She knows as well as everyone else here that you didn't do this, but it's just the kind of leverage she needs to kick you out."

Castle smiled reassuringly, wanted to stroke her hair. It still amazed him how far they had come. Four years ago, Beckett couldn't wait to get him out of her precinct, out of that chair beside her desk. Now, she was agitated to the point of distraction at the thought of him not being there. She wanted him with her.

"It'll be fine," he repeated. "Trust."

No way was he letting Gates, or anyone else for that matter, tear him from this woman's side.

/. . . . /

The captain strode in promptly at nine and crooked a finger at Castle.

"Do good," Kate whispered as he rose to face the firing squad.

Her desk phone rang two minutes later. Turner from CSU. They'd done a second sweep of Whitney Brohm's apartment and discovered something they'd missed the first time out: A journal.

"How do you miss a journal?" asked Javi when Beckett returned with the evidence. "Isn't under the mattress the first place they teach you to look?"

"That probably _was_ the first place they looked," Beckett said, defending the unit. "They found it on a bookshelf. How often do you think CSU has to check every book in the house?"

"Why did they this time?"

Beckett's face was grim. "Castle."

"Right. Where is he? Still at home?"

"With Gates."

Esposito cringed. "Bet he wishes he was still at home."

She didn't even want to think about it.

"C'mon Espo. Let's delve into the private musings of one Whitney Brohm."

An hour later, Castle finally emerged, looking a little green but otherwise unscathed.

"How'd it go?" she asked as he approached her desk.

"Well, she hates me, but not significantly more than before, so that's a plus. I can't stay, though. She's afraid I'll compromise the investigation. I don't know why she would think—"

"Mr. Castle!"

"Going!" Rick practically ran to the elevator and frenetically pressed the call button.

"He's not to be anywhere near this case, Detective," Gates warned Beckett. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir." Kate gave her a curt nod.

Ryan whistled as the captain slammed her door. "Should we be planning a funeral?"

"Not quite yet," Beckett muttered. "Though it may only be a matter of time. You have any luck locating Dalrymple's wife?"

"Not yet," Ryan said. "Apparently, the Martin-Dalrymples are fairly well off. Money must be hers. We've had a unit watching their place, but so far she hasn't showed. Neighbor said she was always off some place or another. No telling when she might be back."

Kate sighed in frustration.

"Find anything in the journal?" Espo asked her.

"Yeah. A lot of self-delusion. I've only read through the back half, but… there's a lot that doesn't fit," she said as Ryan and Esposito pulled chairs up to her desk, tacitly agreeing to leave Castle's empty.

"Such as…?" Ryan prompted her.

"The way she describes Mr. Dalrymple, for one. He is, in her words, 'gentle, considerate, sensitive, charming...' I think there was even a 'suave' in there somewhere. Are you sure we interviewed the right Dusty Dalrymple?" Kate asked the boys, a glint of humor in her eyes.

"So she looked at the world through rose-colored glasses," Ryan guessed. "Anything about Castle in there?"

Beckett nodded her head. "Whitney writes like she was in a relationship with Castle, starting about… three weeks ago."

"Do we know for sure she wasn't?"

Beckett raised her eyes, pinning Javier with a glare. "He says they weren't. Castle's word not good enough for you, Javi?"

"For me, it's gold. Or bronze, anyway," he waffled. "But in a court of law…."

Kate's phone pinged, indicating a new message. Castle. He'd be waiting at Remy's when she was ready for lunch.

"I'm just sayin'," Javier continued while Kate typed out a response, "do we have any proof that what she wrote isn't true?"

Beckett bit her lip. _She_ had proof. Whitney hadn't held back. Some of her entries were quite graphic. Kate's own intimate knowledge of Castle told her those scenes were imagined, but she couldn't, for example, tell the other detectives that the bit about a hook-shaped scar high up on Castle's inner thigh (and the story behind it) was purely fictional, could she?

Also, for at least three of the nights Whitney described, Kate had been with Castle all night herself. She had no problem divulging that in court, if need be, but here? Now? Not a chance.

The three worked together for another hour, dissecting passages, parsing meaning, until a clearer picture of Whitney Brohm's final days began to emerge.

Three weeks ago, about the same time Castle was introduced, the tone of her writing had changed. She had ceased talking about the day-to-day and turned her attention to the night-to-night. Whereas the first pages of her journal were a practical description of Whitney's life, the end read more like a steamy romance novel.

"Maybe Castle's just that good," Esposito mused. "Who'da thunk it?"

"Beckett?" Ryan asked, ribbing her. "You know him best. Think he's capable of rocking someone's world like that?"

Beckett kept her head down, hair hiding what she knew was a highly credible impersonation of a Maine lobster.

"Why, Ryan?" she challenged, without looking up. "Need some pointers?"

The phone on Beckett's desk rang and she snatched at it, grateful for the interruption. A minute later, she was sifting through the files on her desk, rising when she found what she was looking for.

"Florist is back. See if you guys can locate Dalrymple's wife while I'm gone."

* * *

A/N: 1) I know, I know. Abrupt place to end this one. I _told_ you chapter breaks were giving me fits. But Chapter 4 will be up in 24 hours and the shame of an awkward cutoff will be a distant memory.

2) After the day from hell, I get home ridiculously late to find a sneak peek for Probable Cause up ridiculously early the one time I'm (ridiculously) trying to go sneak-peek free. I don't suppose anyone will volunteer to PM me and tell me what's in the Peek that I'm not going to watch?

No, no... don't do it.

Or... maybe just a hint? A little one? Microscopic? Argh! Willpower! Where art thou?


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Nothing's changed since Chapter 1, sadly.**

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Beckett was sliding into a booth across from Castle. After a brief discussion, she sent a quick text to the boys, inviting them to lunch.

"Having any luck?" he asked when she put her phone away.

"Actually, yes. I talked to Mr. Knight. He recognized the arrangement. Whitney ordered it herself. And I showed him your note? He said he quit using that particular enclosure card two years ago. Coupled with the journal, I think we've got enough to exclude you as a suspect."

Castle sighed in relief. "Wait, what journal?"

"CSU found a journal tucked between two of your novels on one of Whitney's bookshelves. It's an… interesting read. Let's just say she had more than one lurid fantasy about you and wasn't shy about describing what she envisioned."

Castle blinked. "She wrote down fantasies about me?"

"Not exactly. She presented them as actual encounters."

"And this exculpates me how?" Rick questioned, looking alarmed.

"Like I said, she wasn't stingy on the details. Lucky for you, you have an exemplary witness that can vouch for the inauthenticity of her descriptions, not to mention provide an alibi for most of the nights she alleged to have spent with you."

"Lucky indeed," Castle murmured.

Kate reached across the table for his hand just as the waitress—a new one, by the looks of it—arrived to take their orders. Castle winked at Kate as she drew back, and by the time the girl had everything right, the moment had passed.

"So what happened with the boyfriend last night?"

"Dalrymple. What a louse. You'd have been delighted by him. Coarse, crude. He admitted to having a booty-call arrangement with Whitney. It's strange, though. The man she described in her journal doesn't resemble the man we talked to at all."

"So… a doppelganger. A clone. A long-lost twin," Castle speculated. "Oh! A shape-shifter! Beckett!"

"More likely just a woman heavily in denial about the life she's leading," Kate said drily.

Rick pouted. "My ideas are more entertaining."

"Undeniably," she granted before moving on. "Ryan and Espo are trying to locate Dalrymple's wife."

"He's married?"

"Yeah. Hard as it is to imagine someone vowing to spend a lifetime with that guy," Beckett affirmed. "And what does she get for her trouble? A husband that brags about his sure thing on the side."

Castle grimaced but remained silent.

Kate studied him through her eyelashes for a minute before turning her attention to her napkin, pondering her next words. How exactly do you ask the man you sometimes fantasize about marrying if he ever cheated on his previous wives?

"The answer is no." Castle leaned back in the booth and stretched his legs out in front of him, careful to avoid hers.

He tried valiantly to adopt a casual pose and tone, but his stomach was clenched in a giant knot. Their previous talk had left him feeling as though he'd been through the wringer and before he'd fully recovered his equilibrium, he had to go through it again.

Rick gave himself a mental slap. If his past left him with more than a little explaining to do, well, whose fault was that?

Still, this conversation really wasn't one to be had in a burger joint over a plate of fries. Ugh.

"I never stepped out on either one. I had plenty of reason and opportunity to, but no. That's not the kind of man I am. Or was, even then."

Beckett heard the hurt in his voice and knew it cut him to have to reassure her of that fact.

"You've never told me a lot about them. Why you married them, why you divorced…" Kate finally nudged after a protracted silence, and he shrugged uncomfortably.

"Meredith I married in a misguided attempt to do the right thing for Alexis. I was idealistic enough to think that we could build a family around her; that maybe if we both loved her, it would carry over into love for each other," Castle explained. "I was wrong."

Beckett simply nodded. "And Gina?"

"I wanted a wife."

Castle sighed.

"I married Meredith to provide a stable home for Alexis. I married Gina to ground _myself_. The whole 'confirmed bachelor' schtick .…" He shook his head. "I wanted someone to share every day with. Because we were well matched intellectually, I thought Gina would… suffice," he ended on a wince.

Kate cringed with him.

"That sounds callous," he admitted. "But I did _want_ to love her, Beckett."

"So… what went wrong?" she asked shyly, wanting to respect any boundaries but also so very curious.

"With Meredith," he said, taking a deep breath, "she didn't want to be tied down. It was a maturity issue, mostly. She was too young to be a mother, too young to be a wife.

"In short," he concluded, "one daughter was too much and one man… wasn't enough."

Kate bit down hard on her lip as she studied the man across from her who was suddenly fascinated by the napkin holder, the ketchup bottle, a small stain on the tabletop. Meredith had cheated on him. And he… did he think she would deem him a lesser man because of that? Oh, Castle.

"Gina," he continued after a minute, "Gina, I think, wanted a companion, not a husband. Our relationship wasn't very intimate, physically or emotionally.

"Either time," he added belatedly, a hint of regret in his voice. "I thought I could live with that. I tried to, but…."

He still wasn't looking at her, which was just as well, because she didn't want him to see how much her heart was breaking for him. No wonder Richard Castle had been such a child when she met him. The times that he'd tried to be more than that, he'd been soundly rejected.

So he had… what? Cloaked himself in immaturity and frivolity, because he found it easier to be disdained for being juvenile than to be discounted as a man?

Beckett sucked in a quiet breath. She had it now.

Castle was afraid that his "more" wouldn't be enough for her. That even the best man he could be wouldn't be the man she needed or deserved.

The waitress approached with the food and Kate, blinking back stunned tears, mustered a tiny smile.

Rick thanked her, then spent a little longer than necessary rearranging the toppings on his burger. The distraction helped him regain his footing.

"But no tears for the martyr here, Beckett," he said blithely, trying to flip the mood. "It wasn't all their fault. With Meredith, I didn't try very hard. Most of my energy was devoted to Alexis. And Gina… I shouldn't have married in the first place. You should love the person you marry, not just what they have the potential to be.

"I screwed up as much as they did, if not more. But since they're not here to testify to that, we'll just call it even." He gave her a self-deprecating smile and turned his attention back to his lunch.

_Nothing like detailing your failures as a husband to the woman you someday hope to marry, _Castle thought caustically.

Beckett opened her mouth to comment, to comfort and reassure him, but after a moment's consideration, closed it again. She needed to choose her words carefully. If she could get this right, it might go a long way toward vanquishing some of his fears. And she wanted to do that for him, as he had already starting doing the same for her.

But she needed a little time and Ryan and Esposito were coming in the front door and this really just wasn't the place. It would have to wait. Kate leaned forward and brushed her hand over his before straightening and greeting the boys.

"So," Javi said, sliding in next to Beckett, "still haven't found the wife. We talked to Dusty again. He says he hasn't seen her since the day before Whitney was killed. But that's apparently not unusual. The money _is_ hers. She travels a lot. We're checking credit cards for recent activity.

"Also, Dalrymple alibis out. Clocked in just before eleven. Security cameras have him working until well after her body was discovered. You gonna eat those fries?"

Beckett pushed her plate toward him and he motioned for Castle to pass the ketchup.

"Which brings us right back where we started from," stated Ryan. "The florist give us anything new?"

"Yeah. Whitney bought those flowers for herself."

"Bouquet of roses says 'I love you.' What woman buys that for herself?" Esposito mused.

"One that likes the flowers and has a cad of a lover that would never think to make the gesture?" Beckett offered.

"Or a woman trying to make the cad jealous," Castle ventured, finally surfacing.

Kate snapped her fingers at him. "The journal entries. _That's_ what was nagging me about them. They sound like they were written for an audience. What if Whitney _was_ trying to make Dalrymple jealous?"

"Leaving her journal out from time to time, tagging flowers with a card from another man," Castle said, picking up her train of thought.

"Not to mention the tweets," Javier added.

Ryan held up his ring finger, flashing the band. "Did she know he was married? Maybe she recently found out and wanted to pay him back. Make him think she had someone else, too?"

"He didn't fly into a jealous rage and kill her, though. He has a solid alibi," Castle said. "But he also has money. Could have hired someone."

"Eh. Dude hires a guy to murder his mistress because she might be banging someone else? I dunno," said Esposito. "I don't think this guy cares enough either way. He didn't even ask about her last night. Couldn't be bothered about how she died, let alone if she was doing another guy."

Beckett shrugged. "Maybe the reason he didn't ask was that he already knew."

Ryan reached across and snagged a fry from Esposito. "What about the wife in this? If she found out, there was probably some anger and jealousy there, right? Question is, enough of it to commit murder?"

"How about it, Beckett?" asked Javi. "Hypothetically. You and the mystery boyfriend get married. It's bliss for a while, then you find out he's cheating. What do you do?"

There was a tense moment before Kate responded. "I don't think I'll have to worry about that, Esposito."

"New guy's not marriage material, huh?"

"That's not what I said at all," she retorted icily. "But my relationship isn't the issue here."

Javier, chastened by her tone, fell silent.

"Maybe," Kevin ventured, trying to lighten the mood, "Castle really is our jealous murderer and he tried to frame Dalyrmple but caught a bad break when the guy worked a different shift that night. Hey, Espo, trade me sides? I'll take the fries, you can sit with the murder suspect. Just in case."

"You _trying_ to give me motive for another murder, Ryan?" asked Rick mildly.

"Better watch it, bro," Esposito warned his partner. "Writer-man packs a punch. One-on-one, I dunno. Who's your pick?"

He'd addressed the question to Beckett, but she didn't hear him. She and Castle were staring at each other, wide-eyed, minds racing parallel down the same track.

"He set her up," they said in unison.

"Move guys," Beckett said, shoving at Javier to get out of the booth. "We need to find the wife."

/ . . . . /

"You want to clue in those of us _not_ connected to the Collective?" Ryan inquired once they were all back at the precinct.

"Dalrymple," said Castle. "What if he set… whoa! Ryan!" Castle interrupted himself when Kevin's remark finally registered. "Star Trek? If you were a woman, that would be hot."

"What if he set her up for the money," Kate stepped in, stealing Castle's thunder.

"Set who up?" Espo asked.

Rick and Kate spoke at the same time:

"Heidi"

"Whitney."

"Wait, what?" Kate asked.

"So much for sharing the same brain," Javier quipped.

"The wife, right? Heidi?" Castle asked, ignoring Esposito. "Dalrymple's gotten himself into a pickle with an unstable girlfriend. He knows his wife is the jealous type—five'll get you ten they have a prenup with an infidelity clause—so he figures he can kill two birds with one stone. When Whitney threatens to tell his wife, Dalrymple dares her to go ahead. She calls his 'bluff,' Heidi shows up and goes a little overboard giving her what-for. Now the mistress is out of the way and Dalrymple has something to hold over his wife's head so she won't cut him off."

"Or Whitney," Kate countered. "Heidi finds out about the affair and decides to divorce him. But if something should 'happen' to her before she files, he's her sole beneficiary. Dalrymple knows his mistress is volatile, the type to go to extremes—look at the lengths she's gone to to make him jealous—so if he can get his wife and psycho girlfriend in the same room, there's bound to be bloodshed. Only it doesn't go the way he thought it would. Wrong woman ends up dead. But it still works out because now he has something to hold over his wife's head so she doesn't divorce him, thereby cutting him off."

"And we're back to the same brain," sighed Esposito.

"So the million dollar question is where is Heidi Martin?" Castle dropped the pen he'd been playing with onto his partner's desk.

"We need Dalrymple." Beckett nodded to the boys. "Why don't you two pick him up. Castle and I—"

"Detective Beckett! Mr. Castle! My office. Now."

"—will be lucky if we're still alive to interrogate him," Castle finished for her, rising from his chair.

"Look on the bright side, Castle. If we go, we go together."

"That's very romantic, in a tragic sort of way. But if it's all the same to you," he said following her as they made their way to the captain's lair, "I'd rather _live_ together."

Beckett froze just inside Gates' doorway, her head snapping around to look at Castle right as he plowed into her. They stumbled ungracefully into the office, a tangle of limbs and apologies.

Quickly righting themselves, gazes steadfastly averted, they moved to stand in front of the none-too-amused captain.

As the tirade commenced, Beckett remained outwardly calm, but she had already decided—if Castle made it out of this office with a discernible pulse, she was going to kill him.

* * *

A/N: A huge thanks to those that helped with the Sneak Peek problem. I may be calling on you again when ABC releases the rest of them. :/

Chapter 5 tomorrow!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Still nuthin'. :(**

* * *

Dusty Dalrymple sat alone in the interrogation room, legs spread in a wide vee, hands laced behind his head, eyes glued to the mirror in front of him. Four people stood behind it observing him, discussing strategy.

"Maybe we should send Castle in with you," Ryan suggested.

Print lab had come back with a match—Dalrymple had indeed read Whitney's journal.

"If Dusty was curious enough to read her diary, he was probably curious enough to check out his competition. He'd probably recognize Castle from his book jackets."

"Be interesting to get a reaction," Esposito seconded his partner.

Rick was game, but Beckett quailed at the idea. Though Gates had relented and agreed to let Castle stay, Kate knew they were walking a fine line. She didn't want to press their luck if they could help it. "I'll go in first, with Espo, see what we can get. Then we'll play it by ear."

Castle and Ryan settled in to watch what would unfold.

"How long had you been seeing Whitney Brohm, Mr. Dalrymple?" asked Beckett without preamble as she marched into the interrogation room, Esposito two steps behind her.

"How do I know? A while. I bounced with the chick. Didn't take no vows with her."

Beckett pulled out the chair across from Dusty and motioned for him to move his legs. When he sat up straighter, she continued, "Speaking of which, was your wife aware of your 'bouncing'?"

"She mighta found out, yeah."

"How did she feel about that?" Esposito asked, sitting down next to Beckett.

"What the hell do I care? She got her life, I got mine. You wanna know how she felt, ask her."

Beckett and Esposito exchanged a look.

"We'd love to," admitted Beckett. "Do you know where we might find her?"

"Nope."

"That's a hell of a marriage you got there, Dusty," observed Esposito.

"Look, copper. Heidi and me, we got a special arrangement. She puts clothes on my back, I put her in the doghouse with her snooty family. We both get what we want. We ain't each other's keeper."

"And Whitney? Did she try and 'keep' you?"

"Nah. Wasn't like that. We just screwed."

"So it didn't bother you when she started seeing another man?"

Dalrymple snorted. "None of my business who else she spread her legs for."

In the observation room, Castle shook his head. "He seems… collected."

Ryan tore his eyes away from the suspect and looked at the writer. "You change your mind about his involvement?"

"Not exactly. I think he's playing them. He's too cool."

After another minute of watching, Castle nudged Ryan. "I've got an idea."

A short time later, Ryan stepped into the interrogation room and whispered something to Beckett. She kept her eyes on Dalrymple while she considered Kevin's words, then slowly nodded her consent.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Dalrymple," she stated, signaling that he was free to go.

They left the room together but before they could make their way down the hall, Beckett stopped as if she'd forgotten something.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dalrymple. Before you go I need you to sign something confirming you came in to talk with us. Could you wait over there, please?" She gestured flippantly toward the nearest wall and walked unhurriedly to her desk.

Dalrymple shrugged and started for the place she'd indicated only to pull up short. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his hesitation, then casually approached the man leaning against the wall.

"They tryin' to pin it on you, too?" Dalrymple asked Castle, who eyed him curiously.

"Pardon?" Rick replied. "Oh. Are you… here about Whitney?"

"Yeah. Small world, huh? You, high and mighty, me blue collar, but we boink the same gal."

Castle feigned surprise. "I'm sorry, what do you know about my relationship with Whitney?"

"She wrote about you some," Dalrymple shrugged. "I got a peek at that little book she was always scribblin' in."

"I see," Castle replied evenly.

"So… think they'll finger you for the job? You write murder books. Maybe the cops think you did it for real." After a pause, he added, "Maybe you did."

"Wouldn't be the first time they thought so," Castle commented drolly, aiming a put-upon glare over Dalrymple's shoulder.

"But no. I didn't do it. You? You're married," he said, nodding toward Dusty's ring. "Maybe Whitney threatened to tell your wife. Blue-collar worker, you said, but those are some expensive clothes you've got. You marry money? Maybe you were afraid she'd divorce you, cut you out. So… you killed Whitney to keep her quiet."

Dalrymple scowled. "My wife don't control me. She can stuff that money up her ass and out her mouth for all I care.

"You fat cats think you're everything," he snarled, suddenly vitriolic. "Think you can buy people. Have whatever you want. You get women with your fat wallet. But I get 'em for nothin'. I get 'em and I can take 'em. So who's the real man?"

"Is that what you did, Mr. Dalrymple?" asked Beckett, who had been standing directly behind Dusty for most of the conversation. "You take her away from Mr. Castle?"

"Naw, sweetheart. I got an alibi, remember?" he said easily, smirk quickly back in place. "But if I'da made her choose, she woulda picked me."

Dalrymple glanced at the form Beckett was holding and jotted his name at the bottom.

"Might wanna check _his_ alibi, though," Dusty advised, nodding toward Castle. "He finds out he's payin' for what I'm gettin' free? Bet that woulda got his pretty panties in a wad."

Dalrymple sauntered out of the bullpen, giving them a mock salute as the elevator doors closed.

"Grudge much?" asked Castle, eyes still fixed on the end of the hall.

"Definitely more than he let on in interrogation. Good idea, by the way."

"I have them from time to time."

"Hey Beckett," Ryan called. "We've got something on the wife."

/ . . . . /

Thirty minutes later, Castle and Beckett were on their way to The Mark on Madison Avenue. Heidi Martin had checked in early that morning.

"You ever stayed at this place, Castle?" Kate asked as they inched along in mid-afternoon traffic.

"Once or twice. It's nice. The restaurant serves a butternut squash ravioli to die for."

He winked. "You want to try it? If this interview goes quickly, we may be able to get a table for dinner. It's the middle of the week. We could probably even get a suite if you want."

Kate smiled. "Maybe some other time, okay, Castle? But speaking of places to stay…."

She trailed off and glanced at Castle who was looking at her expectantly. Cluelessly. She rolled her eyes.

"That little comment earlier? On the way to Gates' office?"

Castle reached back in his memory, searching for anything he may have said that was bad enough to stick in Beckett's craw. She had made some comment about them dying together, proclaiming their love as the iron fists of the captain slowly squeezed the last feathery breaths from their bodies….

Okay, so he might have embellished Kate's idea a little, but he was pretty sure he'd not voiced his version aloud.

Instead, he'd just said he'd rather live with her than... D'oh!

Beckett, afforded the opportunity to observe her partner as they were at a standstill on 77th, nearly laughed as comprehension flooded Castle's face.

So there was her answer. She'd thought he had done it intentionally, just to get a rise out of her. Apparently, though, the double meaning of that phrase hadn't even occurred to him when he'd uttered it. _But now_, she thought, sobering, _he knows it occurred to you_. Oops.

"Well Beckett," said Castle, once he'd mastered his shock, "you can't really blame a guy for not wanting to expire in his prime. Or… or did you think I meant something else when I said I wanted to live with you?"

When she didn't answer, he hummed contemplatively. "You did stop rather suddenly, come to think of it. My proclivity for remaining amongst the living couldn't have been _that_ earth-shattering. So… what might you have thought I meant?"

He was ribbing her now to mask his own embarrassment. Because, though he hadn't meant it that way, would he really object to having Kate Beckett in his bed every night, in his kitchen every morning, in his personal space every waking, sleeping, working, playing moment? Of course not. Yes, he wanted to live with her. And he knew she knew it.

But he also knew however much he wanted it, they weren't ready for that step. They would be, sooner rather than later, he sincerely hoped. But not yet. He could wait. And in the meantime, he would tease.

"You're the wordsmith, Castle. It's your job to infuse all sorts of meaning into every phrase. There's never just one way to interpret what you say. I have to consider every angle. Having a lucid conversation with you can be quite the challenge."

Castle gave her a knowing smile and mercifully let her off the hook. "I enjoy conversing with you, too, Beckett."

Kate grinned.

/ . . . . /

Heidi Martin was a slight woman in her early 30's with wispy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, delicate features… everything that Whitney Brohm wasn't.

She was calm, polite and confident in her movements as she invited Beckett and Castle to sit on the couch in her suite.

"I'm sorry to be indelicate, Ms. Martin," Beckett began, "but were you aware that your husband was involved in an extramarital affair?"

Heidi smiled. "He wasn't cheating on me, Detective… Beckett, was it? Our marriage is one of convenience. It exists on paper only."

"So it didn't bother you that he was seeing someone else?"

"Not at all. I'm not the jilted little woman, Detective. Dusty has his lovers, I have mine. We are not involved in each other's lives."

"In that case, you may not be aware that your husband's lover was murdered two nights ago," Castle broke in bluntly.

The surprise on Heidi's face was genuine. "No. No, I… had no idea. Are you looking for Dusty? Is that why you're here?"

"We're here to speak to you, Ms. Martin."

"You're… me? Whatever for? I have nothing to do with my husband's friend. I don't even know her name."

She held up a hand. "Just a minute. Should I be speaking to you without my attorney?"

"That's your call, Ms. Martin," Beckett said easily. "However, we're not here to arrest you. We're just looking for some answers."

"I don't know what I can tell you. I see Dusty very rarely. I don't know the details of any of his 'affairs.'"

"Can you tell us what's 'convenient' about your marriage?" asked Castle. "Because we've spoken to your husband, and I have to say… I don't see it."

"He's not my type. Is that what you're implying, Mr. Castle?"

Rick inclined his head in affirmation.

"Let me tell you a little story," Heidi continued. "A young woman, living without a care in the world, suffers a devastating loss and as a result inherits a significant amount of money. Some years pass, during which the woman is besieged by family, friends and men alike, all of whom want a slice of her wealth, none of whom are sincere in their affections toward her.

"Finally, weary of fending off such artifice, she opts to marry. She searches for and chooses a man from another world, one for whom money is not the be-all and end-all. Their arrangement is simple: She gives him limited financial support, he keeps the wolves at bay. They coexist quite amicably by agreeing to live separate lives. The marriage, while not fairy-tale idealistic, is nonetheless ideal."

Castle and Beckett glanced at each other as she concluded, at a loss for words.

"I don't wish to share my life," Heidi elaborated. "My money and my heart are my own. I intend to keep it that way."

After an uncomfortable pause, she cleared her throat delicately. "If you don't have any more questions, I'll have to ask you to excuse yourselves. I'm expecting company shortly."

"One more thing, Ms. Martin," said Beckett, opening the file she'd brought from the station. "Two weeks ago, you began withdrawing fairly large sums of money from the joint bank account you share with—"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted. "I don't understand. I haven't made any withdrawals."

Beckett handed Heidi the financial records that indicated otherwise.

"I don't understand," she repeated. "This account is primarily for Dusty's use. I have a personal account for my own transactions."

"That may be," said Beckett, "but these withdrawals were made with your card, not Mr. Dalrymple's."

Heidi still wore a look of incomprehension.

"Would anyone besides yourself have access to that card right now, Ms. Martin?" Castle inquired.

The snick of a keycard disengaging a lock on the door of the suite delayed her answer. The three rose in unison as a handsome younger man entered the room.

"Jason," Heidi said, sparing another glance to her other guests, "this is Mr. Castle and Detective Beckett from the NYPD."

Jason paused, then whipped around and bolted back out the door.

The partners gave chase, Beckett following the man into the stairwell and down while Castle summoned the elevator on the off chance it was still in the vicinity. Luck was on his side, and he jumped in before the doors finished opening.

Heidi's suite was on the 11th floor, so Castle thought there was a good chance he had beaten them to the lobby when he arrived. The door to the stairwell flew open and Castle turned sideways, slamming his shoulder into the man that came barreling out.

Jason was sprawled on his stomach, Castle's knee planted in his back, when Beckett exited the stairwell thirty seconds later, limping slightly.

"Why do they always think they can get away?" Castle asked the slightly-out-of-breath detective.

They hauled their sprinter up off the ground together. "Castle, could you go back and ask Ms. Martin to come to the precinct with us while I get our Usain Bolt wannabe into the car?"

"Sure, Beckett. Want us just to meet you there?" He wasn't sure Heidi and Jason should be riding together at this point.

"Sounds good. And Castle?" she added. "Nice work."

* * *

A/N: Almost there! Chapter 6 tomorrow!

(And if Sneaks show up before my next post, feel free to PM me and offer words of encouragement as I continue in my efforts to remain chaste.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I'm beginning to think they'll never be mine.**

* * *

Beckett walked into the 12th with an apologetic and nervous Jason Reed in tow.

"Hey, Ryan, Espo, get Dalrymple back here. Use the cuffs," she ordered.

Mr. Reed had been a blubbering mess on the ride back to the precinct, but Beckett had gleaned enough from his ramblings to feel justified in arresting the warehouse stocker.

She stuck Reed in Interrogation 2 and waited for her partner to arrive, which he did, ten minutes later, a composed-looking Heidi Martin at his heels. They handed her over to one of the uniforms and told her they'd be with her directly, then proceeded in to question their would-be sprinter.

In between various expressions of remorse, Jason Reed admitted to "borrowing" Heidi's bank card as a favor to Dalrymple. Dusty had claimed to need it while awaiting a replacement for his own, and had convinced Jason that Heidi would never hand it over freely, as protective as she was about her possessions.

Feeling guilty over his "friendly" relationship with the man's wife, Jason eventually obliged his request. He had returned the card when Dalrymple was finished with it. Heidi never realized it was missing.

"Am I in a lot of trouble?" Jason asked, subconsciously rubbing his chest when he looked at Castle.

"It's starting to look that way, Mr. Reed."

Castle and Beckett exited the room quietly, leaving a dejected Jason Reed to sit and wonder what he had gotten himself into.

/ . . . . /

The partners found Heidi as they had left her, sitting primly on a couch in the lounge.

The interview was brief. She confirmed she'd known nothing about the theft of her bank card, nor had she even known her husband and her lover were acquainted.

"Did you give Dusty the PIN to your card at any point in time?" Castle asked carefully.

"Of course not," Heidi answered. "Although… I admit, it may not have been hard to guess. My parents were killed in a car accident eight years ago, Mr. Castle. I used the date of their deaths as my PIN."

Through the blinds, Beckett saw the boys return with Dalrymple and escort him into Interrogation.

Thanking Heidi and asking her to remain just a while longer, Beckett motioned for Castle to join her in the hall.

"Dalrymple's back. They have him in One."

"The most we've got on him right now is card theft, maybe fraud," Castle stated. "He won't give anything else up. He'll just play us."

Beckett sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Okay. So we turn the tables. We play him."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Want to try your hand at acting again, Mr. Castle?"

"Ooh. Role play."

"Yeah, we can do that too," Beckett murmured with a slow raise of her eyebrow, causing Rick's vision to blur momentarily. "Just think of this as a dry run."

/ . . . . /

Beckett entered Interrogation One alone. Castle stayed in the observation room with Ryan and Esposito, awaiting her signal.

"How do you know Jason Reed, Mr. Dalrymple?" Beckett asked, once again sitting down across from her suspect.

"Sorry, don't recognize the name."

"Really? He knew yours."

Dusty flinched. "Maybe I met him someplace. Dunno."

"Maybe met him someplace… maybe asked him to do you a little favor?" Beckett baited him.

"Okay, sure, I got the name now," Dusty said after a minute, tapping his head. "He's the guy gettin' it on with Heidi."

"Not to mention stealing her bank card at your behest."

"I ain't no thief. No law against takin' money outta your own account."

"That depends on what you do with it, Mr. Dalrymple. It wasn't pocket change you withdrew."

"How I spend my dough ain't none of your business, sugar."

"It's Detective Beckett. And it became my business when your girlfriend turned up dead."

They sat in stony silence, staring each other down, until a rap on the door interrupted their face-off. A handcuffed Castle was prodded into the room, the door shut unceremoniously behind him.

"Mr. Castle. Glad you could join us."

"I'm happy to be wherever you are, Detective Beckett," Castle said silkily. "But do you think we could lose these?"

He jangled the cuffs. "Unless you _really_ want to keep them. If that's your game, my safe word is 'apples.'"

Beckett motioned toward the mirror and Javier came in to remove the cuffs before returning to Observation.

"Have a seat, Mr. Castle."

Rick moved to pull out the chair next to hers, but Kate wrapped her foot around a steel leg, blocking the attempt. She pointed to the other side of the table, but he stubbornly held his ground.

Dalrymple watched as they engaged in a heated, wordless exchange before Castle finally relented and moved to sit across from the detective.

"So," Castle said, clasping his hands together and leaning forward on the table, "still trying to figure out which one of us murdered Whitney Brohm?"

Beckett shoved a pad of paper and a pen across the table. "Feel free to write out your confession, Mr. Castle."

"I could do that," he replied, "but it would be like everything else I write: pure fiction."

"I've read your work," admitted Beckett. "'Pure' is not the word I would use to describe it."

Castle turned to Dalrymple and addressed him in a low voice. "You're in trouble now. She reads my work. _Total _fangirl. No _way_ I'm taking the rap for this. Hope you've got a good lawyer."

"I don't need no fancy lawyer," Dusty snapped. "I got an alibi."

"You've also got a much lighter bank account than you had two weeks ago, Mr. Dalrymple," Beckett stated, returning to her original line of questioning. "Where's the money, Dusty?"

He didn't answer and Castle was practically vibrating, so Beckett addressed the writer with a curt, "What?"

"Oh, Detective, you have to say it. C'mon, you know you want to."

_Show me the money!_ was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back, hoping the sparkle of laughter in her eyes looked like a flash of irritation.

"I'm so happy you're able to find amusement in this situation, Mr. Castle. I tend to take murder a little more seriously, myself."

"It shows. Maybe you need someone here to help you see the humor in it. I might be persuaded to stick around for that job. With the proper incentive," he leered.

Beckett bristled. "Oh, don't worry. You're not going anywhere, Mr. Castle. Not until you tell me how the two of you conspired to murder Ms. Brohm."

Dalrymple and Castle looked at each other, nonplussed.

"You ain't much of a cop," Dusty shot at the detective. "I didn't kill 'er, but I wouldn't need his help if I did."

"I think she's got a theory. Let's ask her what it is. What's your theory, Detective Beckett?"

She glared at Castle. "Fine. Here's what I think happened. You two… _gentlemen_… figure out you're seeing the same woman. That's got to be a blow to the fragile male ego. Maybe you cross paths one night, one coming, the other going.

"You have words, then realize it's Whitney that's the real problem, not each other. You decide to make her pay. Mr. Castle wants to get a better feel for what he writes about, maybe make his books more authentic. But he won't have an alibi. So Mr. Dalrymple offers to set up his wife, make it look like a jealous spouse put out a hit on her husband's mistress. Mr. Castle wouldn't need the money. So the cops would look elsewhere for a suspect."

There was silence as the two men processed Beckett's scenario.

"That's an interesting idea, Detective. But you got some things horribly wrong," Castle finally responded.

"Such as?"

"For one, my books are already authentic."

Beckett rolled her eyes.

"For another," he continued, "I didn't kill her. But I do have a theory of my own, if you'd be interested in a different take."

"By all means." Beckett spread her hands out, indicating Castle had the floor.

"Hoo!" Rick sprang up out of his chair and began a circuit around the room. "So Dusty here has a bit of an ice cube for a wife. Her one true love is her bank account. He won't divorce her—she's his meal ticket—but she's not putting out for him, so he has to find his honey elsewhere. Good so far?" he asked Dalyrmple, who only glared.

"Oh, that's a definite 'yes.' Enter Whitney. He hooks up with her for a while but at some point realizes she's started seeing another man. Normally, this wouldn't bother him a lot. Whitney's not much more to him than a roll in the hay. However—"

"The other man is one of the rich and famous variety," Beckett picked up, rising from her own seat to face Castle. "And that _does_ bother him."

Rick nodded. "Because it means someone else with money is exerting control over yet another facet of his life."

"Maybe Whitney has started breaking dates with Dusty to be with this other man. Her newest lover gives her flowers and presents, is more of a gentleman, is probably better in bed," Beckett speculated, taking a step closer to Castle, eying him with a bit more than professional interest.

Dusty angrily shoved his chair back and stood to confront the two theorists. "You ain't got a damn clue about me."

They ignored him.

"He's had it with wealthy people and the power they wield. He figures out a way to show them who's really in charge."

Beckett took the reins. "Dalyrmple confronts his wife's latest lover. Guilt-trips him, bribes him maybe. Whatever he needs to do to get Jason to filch Heidi's bank card. He disguises himself, or pays other people, to withdraw large chunks of money from their joint account."

"He finds someone on the street, someone desperate, and offers the deal of a lifetime. He shows _them_ the money," Castle grinned, moving into Beckett's personal space. "Gives them a quarter of it, promises the rest after the job is done."

"He tells the guy when to do it, to make sure it coincides with his alibi. Maybe even tells him _how_ to do it. Everything goes according to plan. And when we show up to question Dalrymple, he subtly implicates his wife."

"He was on the brink of glory. Showing up his lover's lover, bringing his wife down a peg or ten. All he needed was a detective quick to pull the trigger and move on to the next murder. Instead, he got you."

Castle and Beckett were just inches apart, looking for all the world like they'd forgotten Dusty was even in the room.

"That's a real cute idea. But you don't got no proof. You don't got it and you _won't_ get it."

His proclamation received no immediate response.

Dalrymple shifted uncomfortably as he watched the writer reach up and twirl a strand of the detective's hair around his finger. "Oh, if she wants it, I'm sure she'll get it," Castle said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.

Beckett drew in a shaky breath and Dusty snapped. "You want a sugar daddy, sweetie, you go ahead and jump him. But you best sleep with one eye open, or you're like as not to end up another Whitney, with that pretty face of yours smashed to a bloody pulp."

Twin smiles slowly bloomed on the partners' faces. Castle dropped his hand from Kate's hair and stepped back.

Beckett moved to slide the pen and paper to Dalrymple's side of the table. He stood rigidly next to it, arms crossed, angry and belligerent.

"Would you mind writing down how you know the details of Whitney's death, Mr. Dalrymple? We've not yet made that information public."

Dusty's aggressive expression faltered. "I ain't writin' nothin'. And I'm done talkin' without a lawyer."

Beckett signaled to the detectives behind the mirror. Ryan and Esposito stepped into the room a moment later and cuffed Dalrymple.

"You can call your lawyer from lockup, man," said Espo as he led Dusty out of interrogation.

"Well, that was… intense," Kevin remarked as he stepped into the hall.

Beckett and Castle were close behind him, but Ryan held up a hand. "You guys might want to take a minute. Cool down."

Right before he closed the door, Ryan muttered two blessed words, just loud enough for them to hear:

"Camera's off."

/ . . . . /

Two hours later, Kate Beckett was ready to be off her feet. Chasing a suspect down 11 flights of stairs in four-inch heels hadn't been the easiest or brightest thing she'd ever done. It wasn't a sprain, she was pretty sure, but there was definitely a twinge in her right ankle.

For the millionth time, Beckett considered grabbing the pair of sneakers out of her gym locker, and for the millionth time rejected the notion. It didn't hurt that badly. Really.

She groaned and sat down to do a bit of paperwork before calling it a night, but Ryan and Espo wandered over to lean on her desk.

"So… Dalyrmple hired a hitman for Whitney and tried to frame his wife for the job. Pretty clever. Dude has more brains than he lets on."

"What about the hitman?" asked Ryan. "Any ideas?"

"Could be anyone, probably a vagrant," said Beckett. "We'll take a look at the ATM surveillance videos, see if Dusty used anyone to make the withdrawals. Otherwise, we'll just have to hope he rolls over on his accomplice. I'm pretty sure we can make him talk."

"And all those things that Whitney did, they really were just about making Dusty jealous?" asked Esposito.

"We'll never know," Kate sighed. "Whatever happened, Whitney obviously wanted to poke at him. My guess is that she knew how Dusty felt about his wife being rich and thought she had the perfect way to needle him."

"Only she underestimated how potent that poke actually was and it cost her her life," finished Ryan, a somber expression on his face.

The three fell silent momentarily, reflecting on Whitney's gruesome fate, until Esposito broke the pall.

"While we're on the topic of money, where's Castle?"

"Taking Heidi Martin back to her hotel."

Esposito hummed thoughtfully.

Kate ruthlessly quashed his speculation. "Not going to happen, Espo."

"How do you know?" persisted Javier. "They might be the perfect couple."

"Who's the perfect couple?" asked Castle, coming up behind him.

"You and the heiress."

"Ah. Yeah. Not happening."

Kate smirked at Javi.

"Well maybe it should," suggested Esposito. "You intend to keep attracting suspicion in murder cases, it might be a smart move to get yourself an alibi for the overnight hours. Just sayin'."

"Thanks for the tip. I'll work on that. But not with Heidi."

"Already got someone else in mind for tonight then, Castle?" prompted Ryan with a sly grin.

"If I do, I won't be announcing it to the bullpen," Rick said pointedly.

"Why not?" asked Espo. "You've never had a problem announcing it before."

"Maybe this one's different," suggested Ryan with a smile. "Special."

Castle leveled an affirming look at Kevin. "Maybe she is."

* * *

A/N: And we're down to the finish! One final chapter to go, and it's all Caskett, baby!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: (crickets) (sniff, sniff)**

**Notes: Happy Castle Monday, FINALLY! We made it! And fair warning for those reading this final chapter: Here there be FLUFF. If that's not your thing, the plank is thattaway. (Points to the left.) Last chance to abandon ship! And most importantly, to all of you on the eastern seaboard in the U.S., all the best in dealing with Sandy. Stay safe!**

* * *

Castle and Beckett shuffled into her apartment a little after nine. They'd tried the loft first, but Martha was entertaining some theater colleagues, so they'd gone right back out the door and headed to Kate's instead.

"Think we'll get him?" asked Castle as he flipped on the lights while Beckett balanced against him, finally shucking off her shoes.

"We'll get him, Castle." They'd talked game plan and strategy on the ride home, and Kate was confident they had enough to make Dalrymple fold.

"They might have to offer him a plea, but he won't get off. Finding his accomplice, though… that'll take some work," she sighed. "Especially now that he has some money. But we'll do it."

She smiled and Rick nodded, bolstered by her confidence.

"How's the ankle?" he inquired casually. He'd avoided asking until now because he knew she'd have shrugged it off. Here in their private sphere, though, she was more likely to be candid.

"I just tweaked it, Castle. I think it'll be okay in the morning."

"So you don't want anything? Ice pack? Ibuprofen? Foot rub?" he asked, walking into the kitchen.

Kate thought for a moment. "No to the first two, but I might take you up on the third."

"Just say when. You're lucky you didn't break both legs," he commented as he dug a couple of bottled waters out of the fridge.

She boosted herself onto the counter and thanked him as he opened the first one and handed it to her. "Next time, _I_ get the elevator."

Castle grimaced at the thought of running down all those flights. Or worse, _up_ them.

"Maybe we could share it?" he asked hopefully.

"Because you don't like stairs," Kate wondered, pulling him into her and wrapping her calves around his thighs, "or because you like being in elevators with me?"

"Well, I was envisioning the stairs, but now that you mention it…."

She laughed against his mouth and they kissed languidly for a minute before Kate put a hand to his cheek and pulled back to look at him appraisingly.

"Hey," she said softly. "How are you?"

Castle tilted his head in silent query.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask before, but… Whitney? You knew her. Are you… ?"

Rick took a long drink of water while he considered her question. He tried to call up an image of Whitney pre-attack, but even though her picture had been on the murder board for two days, he couldn't quite manage it. He had barely known her and, sadly, what was under the sheet in the morgue was more prominent in his memory.

"I'm all right, Kate. I'm sorry for what happened to her, of course. And it's surreal when someone you know…."

He trailed off with a wince, but Beckett waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, so he continued, "…when someone you know dies that way. But truth be told, her death wasn't what made this case so difficult."

The last 48 hours _had_ been unsettling and emotional and nerve-wracking, but it had nothing to do with the fact that a woman he once slept with had been murdered. Was it really just this afternoon that he had told Beckett about the epic failures that were his marriages? Was it just one day ago that he'd tried to explain (and bury, he hoped) his playboy days?

Castle shook his head as if to clear it, and Kate placed their waters on the counter before coiling her arms around his neck and drawing him close again.

"I know it wasn't easy," she said, her thoughts mirroring his. "And Castle? I'd like to thank you for being so forthcoming. Seeing things from your point of view, having a better understanding… it helps. It more than helps."

She held Rick's gaze a long time, willing him to see the truth in that statement.

"I'm glad," he finally murmured, closing his eyes and touching his forehead to hers.

Then he was stepping back, catching her right foot as it fell away from his leg, bringing it up to examine it.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, giggling as he tickled her instep. He grinned then ran his fingers over her ankle, checking for swelling, giving her a stern look when he found it.

"Given your line of work and your shoe collection," Castle said, rummaging in her freezer, "you really ought to have an ice pack or two. Or some frozen peas, at least."

Kate's smile faded as she watched him fill a ziplock with crushed ice. He was changing the subject, distancing himself, and she wondered if he felt too exposed, too raw.

"How was Heidi?" she asked abruptly, following his lead and steering the conversation in a different direction. If he needed a little personal space in the wake of his confessions, it was the least she could do to give it to him.

He shot her a grateful glance as he unfolded a kitchen towel and secured it around the improvised ice pack. "She took it all very matter-of-factly. She's a cool customer, that one. I think the only emotion I saw from her was annoyance when she realized she'd need to find a new husband."

They shared an amused look, but Beckett got the feeling there was something he wasn't telling her, so she made a _go on_ gesture that brooked no argument.

"She asked if I'd be interested in the job," he admitted bashfully. "She assured me it would just be for show, nothing real."

"I see. And what did you say to such a generous offer?"

He smiled softly, held her gaze, but… was he blushing?

"I thanked her for her consideration, but told her that neither of my first two marriages had been real, either, so I was trying something different this time around."

Beckett felt her own face redden at his admission. Oh. Well then. So much for space.

Castle stepped up to Kate and stroked a thumb across her cheek before wrapping his arm around her hips to tug her off the counter.

"She seems like a nice enough lady. It's unfortunate she's so… jaded," Castle said as they moved to sit on the couch.

He got Beckett settled against the arm with a pillow at her back, then sat down at the other end and encased her foot between his hands, warming it while the ice cooled her ankle.

"Not jaded, Castle," she corrected. "Guarded."

"Hmm."

Beckett nudged his knee with her good foot. "I have some experience with walls of that variety, if you'll recall. I recognize them when I see them."

Castle merely smiled and gave her toes a squeeze.

"I wish…" she started, only to fade away, lost in her own thoughts.

"You wish?" he eventually prodded.

Kate sighed. "I wish I could have talked to her, I guess. Offered her some hope."

"Yeah? And what would you say to her? Assuming she would listen."

"I think I'd tell her a story," she replied, a slow grin breaking open across her face.

"Looks like it's a good one. I'd like to hear it," Castle implored.

Beckett dropped her left leg off the side of the couch and motioned to her partner. "C'mere."

He released her foot and scooted up the couch, turning until he was stretched out between her legs, his head pillowed on her chest, her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"Once upon a time…" he began for her once they were situated, but she tightened her arms against his neck threateningly.

"Hush. This is _my_ version."

He quieted and Kate kissed the top of his head before she began.

"I would tell her that, someday, a special man will come into her life. He'll be exasperating and presumptuous and so very unexpected, and she'll panic a little at first because, even though she wants to dislike him, he'll still manage to charm her."

Castle huffed, tried to swallow his laughter, didn't quite succeed. Becket squeezed his waist with her thighs and brought a finger and thumb to his mouth, sealing his lips with a silent _zip it_. He nodded dutifully.

"Anyway, they'll start spending time together, get to know one another, and pretty soon she'll consider him a friend. She'll look forward to seeing him every day. He'll remind her how to laugh, and she'll smile more, be happier when he's there.

"They'll continue to get closer, be there for each other, help each other grow, and one day, she'll realize that she trusts him above everyone else in her life.

"She'll be scared then, because she'll have started to understand just how much she relies on him, how much he gives her, how much she cares. It will be overwhelming. And she'll want to run from it, because she's so afraid to need him."

Kate paused in her narrative, rested her cheek on Rick's head, tangled her fingers with his before resuming.

"And she might run. But she'll come back, because she _does_ need him. Because even if she's not quite ready to accept it, she'll know what he is to her. What they are to each other.

"But she'll still have work to do. She'll have to deal with that wall around her heart. She built it to protect herself, as a support to help her stand alone, but she'll come to hate it, because she knows he's on the other side of it, waiting for her. Loving her. And she'll want nothing more now than to be out there with him.

"So she'll put everything she has into tearing the wall apart. And because she wants it—wants _him_—badly enough, she'll bring it down, and they'll finally be together."

Kate took a deep breath and hugged Castle as tightly as she could from the position they were in.

"Even then, though, it won't be a fairy tale ending. She'll still have insecurities, moments of doubt. But her blessing is that that special man will have the strength and patience and humility to stand with her, reassure her, even when it's him she seems to be doubting.

"He'll give her what she needs to feel secure, whatever the personal cost. He'll do everything in his power to protect her heart. And she'll love him for that. For a lot of reasons, actually, but it's his defense of her heart, his determination to care for it that will finally allow her to tell him how utterly he commands it."

The silence as she finished her tale was complete, and if not for the slight hitch in his breathing, she would think he had fallen asleep.

When it had stretched on for a number of minutes, Beckett asked,"You're still awake, right? That wasn't meant to be a bedtime story."

Castle's voice was husky with emotion when he answered her. "I'm still with you. I was waiting for, 'And they lived happily ever after.'"

"Ah. Well, Heidi seems the pessimistic sort. I doubt she'd buy that line. But since she's not here, and you are….

"They lived happily ever after. Mostly."

She felt Castle's chest vibrate with suppressed laughter. After a long exhale, he kissed the inside of each of her wrists and pulled her arms tightly around his chest.

"I love you, Kate."

"Yeah, you do," she said, sliding out from behind him, forcing him back against her pillow, settling herself on his thighs, linking their hands, smiling that radiant smile she reserved only for him.

"I love you, too."

Castle grinned. "Knew I'd charm you into it eventually," he whispered, bringing her hands to his mouth, kissing her fingertips.

She leaned forward and replaced fingers with lips. "Why don't we head into the other room. See what else you can charm me into doing."

"Katherine Beckett," he scolded. "Are you asking me to put my charms to lascivious use?"

"I am, absolutely, yes," she confirmed. "Do you mind terribly?"

"I guess I can be persuaded to do your bidding. Just this once," he said, sitting up fully, cradling her in his arms as he did so. "Grab that ice."

"Cubes, Castle. My trick is with cubes," she said, but reached around to snag it anyway.

"And I'm looking forward to the day you show it to me, too," he confided as he stood with her in his arms, "but this ice is for therapeutic purposes only."

Kate sighed and snuggled against him, nipping at his neck, then sucking lightly at the spot she'd just bitten.

"You sure?" she purred as he nearly careened into the door jamb.

"You keep that up," Castle chided, "we'll be icing a lot more than your ankle."

She giggled. "Oh, so you _do_ want—"

The rest of her sentence was lost to his kiss and forgotten as she let her head fall back, felt his mouth work its way down her throat, down to the scar in the center of her chest.

Castle set her down lightly at the foot of the bed, tossed the ice pack onto the mattress and waited until Beckett's eyes regained some semblance of focus.

"Kate," he began, softly framing her face with his hands. "What you told me just now?"

She grasped his wrists and nodded her remembrance, unabashedly meeting his eyes and smiling at the adoration written so plainly on his face.

"It's a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing it with me."

End

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A/N: I can't believe I completed a multi-chapter fic. For a girl with ADHD who _cannot_ sit still or focus worth a whit for more than two minutes at a time, this is a major feat! If I attempt a longer fic in the future, though, I may have to hit someone up for some Ritalin or something first. LOL….

Anyway, thank you all so very much for reading/following/reviewing. I truly hope you had as much fun with this fic as I did!


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